Indoctrinated
by Lace Brandon Whitlock
Summary: Draco's point of view from the chapter Sectumsepra from th sixth book. As in character and accurate as I could make it. Review!


**Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns everything. The characters, the plot, and everything else. But the idea to write it in Draco's point of view was all me.**

**Blaire Z.**

**Indoctrinated**

Draco Malfoy leaned against the wall of a deserted hallway with an unreadible expression on his face as he fingered his left arm.

Believe it or not, he still hadn't gotten the mark. He knew the Dark Lord had his reason, and frankly couldn't have been more happy when his godfather, Severus, had given him the scroll from his father.

But still, the date was set, and it was approaching rapidly.

And he was scared. So, so scared. _Cowardly_, he thought idyly. _Who would have thought it. Me, the pureblood heir to the Malfoy fortune, followers of the Dark Lord since he first became a dictator, am too afraid to recieve the Dark Mark._

But he was stuck. He couldn't remember a time where his father was telling him about the Dark Lord. What he did, how he did it, and all about his followers' jobs.

He'd been indoctrinated from birth by his paren't beliefs, and it had been perfectly fine until this past year.

Now he was getting what he had wanted. He had been given a mission by Lord Voldemort himself, and it now just hit him.

His dream was so very different.

He had to kill Dumbledore. He had to take that agrivating sparkle out of his eyes. He had to leave Harry Potter all alone, and banquish the only chance of victory over the Dark Lord's rule.

He had to condem himself to a fate he didn't want, couldn't take, and wouldn't survive.

His head shot up as he heard footsteps coming down the hall and ran into the nearest room-Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Merlin, what am I going to do?" he asked himself quietly. "I can't do this... But I have to. For Mother. For Father."

He slid down the wall and put his arms around his knees. "What if I die?" He sounded small. So, small. And scared.

And then he just didn't care.

Draco Malfoy let a sob rip through him as he put his head on his knees. _I can't do it_, he thought to himself. _I can't just kill someone. I can't..._

Something cold touched his shoulder, and he looked up, still sobbing freely, to see Myrtle looking at him sympitheticly. He jumped up to his feet quickly;he still had his status to maintain.

"There, there. When I was alive I always cried in here too. Nobody ever comforted me," she said softly to him. "Let me help you."

His hands gripped the white sink with his head bowed, tears running down his face and shoulders shaking. "You can't do anything for me," he stated, his voice breaking.

"Don't," she crooned. "Don't... tell me what's wrong... let me help you..."

"No one can help me," Draco said. By then, his whole body was shaking. And then he just started saying what was on his mind. It was gibberish to her, but it made so much sense to him. "I can't do it... I can't... It won't work... and unless I do it soon... he says he'll kill me..."

He let out another choked sob, and his whole body shuddered as he tried to compose himself. And then he looked in the mirror... _Potter_.

Draco sent a hew right at him, which was blocked and returned by a wordless Levicorpus. Myrtle was screaming for them to stop as they continued to throw mild curses at eachother.

And then Draco narrowly dodged a curse, which hit into something behind him that began to pour water everywhere. He watched as Potter fell to the ground. It was a good oppertunity...

He pointed his wand at the other boy and cried, "Cruci-"

"SECTUMSEPRA!" Potter bellowed from the floor. _What the bloody hell does that-_ His thoughts broke off as he felt blood flowing down his face.

He looked down at his chest, which was splurting blood. He considered swearing, but that would it do?

He fell back to the floor, wand falling from his hand.

"MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!" Myrtle screamed.

Harry's head appeared over him. "No-I didn't-" But he had.

And honestly, Draco Malfoy couldn't care less. He was sick of being shaped in his father's image. He was sick of where his life was going. He was sick of it all.

He considered thanking Potter, but he couldn't make his lips move. It was dark. He hadn't even realized he'd closed his eyes.

But he _was_ thankfull. It was better to die like this, than killed in cold blood. He was dying. He had to be. There was so much pain and blood...

It wasn't really Potter's fault. He was defending himself, and part of him thought that he really hadn't known what the curse did. He hoped that he wouldn't blame himself. It was better this way.

He felt somebody lift him up, but didn't ponder it.

_Potter's saved somebody again_, he thought. _Even if he doesn't realize it_.

For once, he thought he was free. Free from his parents, the Dark Lord, and his blood-status.

And then he blacked out from the world, not knowing that he wasn't really free after all.

**END**


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